


The Winter Fox

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Plot? What Plot?, day 5: a christmas carol, holy clexmas, holy clexmas 19, just a snowball of fluff really, maybe a little holiday magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: It’s been ten years since Lexa’s been home for Christmas. Ten years since she last saw it.While caroling with her childhood friend and his family, Lexa meets the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen. The connection is instant, magical, and Lexa quickly finds herself sharing hot chocolate and secrets with a woman who may have a few mysteries of her own.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 45
Kudos: 277





	1. Here We Come A-Wassailing

Her knife crunched through the last bit of ice. Lexa wiped the blade clean of ice chips and water before dipping it back into the tiny hole she just punched through. The entire length of the blade and an inch up the handle dripped as she pulled it out. Four inches of ice. Plenty thick enough to skate on. 

Lexa wiped her pocket knife dry and flipped it shut, and there it was again. 

The whisper of a tail dashing in the corner of her eye. Lexa twirled around, her thick winter boots sliding on the ice. She crouched low, like a snow leopard stalking a hare.

One step. Two.

The silver fur of the fox bristled as Lexa snuck closer.

She froze.

The fox craned its head back, catching Lexa’s gaze. Its gray-blue eyes sparkled in the sun, and Lexa swore the beast smirked at her. She took another step, placing her boot as gently as she could, terrified that any misstep would send the beautiful creature scurrying away. But the fox just stared back at her, its face frozen in what she could only describe as curiosity.

Lexa closed her eyes. She took in a long deep breath of the frigid air and outstretched her hand.

The fur was so much softer than Lexa had imagined.

She peeked one eye open, giggling as the downy-like hair tickled her hand. The fox nuzzled its head into her palm, just like her pet cat when no one was looking.

“Hey, there, little lady,” Lexa cooed as she ran her hand ever so gently along the fox’s head. “You finally let me catch you.”

The fox startled backwards, narrowing its eyes at something over Lexa’s shoulder. She craned her head around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just the same trees lining her secret spot.

“What is it? What do you see?”

The fox glared behind her.

The shrill electronic ring of her cellphone pierced the air, and Lexa threw her head back in despair as the fox scampered away, its silver fur vanishing in a tangle of trees and fallen leaves.

“Mom!” Lexa groaned into the phone after flipping it open. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.” 

She stared at the ground where the fox sat not thirty seconds before, wondering if she’d see her little friend again before next year. With a gruff sigh, Lexa marched back towards town. 

As she climbed the final hill to her childhood home, a familiar scent caught her attention. That clean, crisp smell could only mean one thing.

“There you are!” Her mother called from the front porch, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted apron. “Hurry along now. It’s starting to snow.”

Lexa went crosseyed as the single most fluffy and perfect snowflake landed on the tip of her nose.

*******

Lexa stared out the kitchen window as she mindlessly stirred the wassail. The familiar landscape loomed in front of her, the trees brown and dark. Their spindly branches reached in every direction, and, despite it being late December, they remained snow-free. 

A warm fluffy thing weaved between her legs, and Lexa set her spoon on the snowman-shaped ceramic plate before bending down.

“How’s my girl doing?” Lexa snuggled the old cat against her chest. Anya purred and nuzzled her head deep against Lexa. “You’re getting so soft in your old age,” she teased the feline. 

As if the ornery cat had something to prove, Anya hissed, and with a mad dash, bolted from Lexa’s grasp. “It’s nice to see you too!” Lexa shouted after the retreating ball of fluff. She dusted off the tuft of brown hair that Anya ever so lovingly left on her black sweater. “It’s not like I haven’t been home for the holidays in ten years.”

“Somethings never change.”

Lexa crossed the small kitchen in three steps and wrapped the woman up in a hug. “Mom-” she pulled away. “You’re home early.”

“Slow day at the office,” Indra grinned. She picked up the wooden spoon and gave the simmering wassail a few stirs, adding an extra pinch of cloves and two more cinnamon sticks. Lexa hopped up on the counter, perfectly content to let her mother tweak the recipe as she saw fit. Indra was the wassail expert, after all. 

A flash of movement whipped in her peripheral. Lexa snapped her attention to the window, narrowing her eyes against the late afternoon sun. A whisper of silver vanished into the tree line, and Lexa scoffed under her breath.

“Looking for your imaginary friend?” Indra smirked, all teasing, all loving.

“It wasn’t an imaginary friend.”

“You’re going to insist that fox was real until your dying breath, aren’t you?”

“Mom,” Lexa sighed as she hopped off the counter. “It was real.”

“What was real?”

Lexa hid her head in her hands as the backdoor slammed shut, and she was suddenly engulfed in a bear hug to rival all bear hugs. “Hey, Lincoln,” Lexa mumbled into the faux leather covered chest of her childhood best friend.

“We were just discussing Lexa’s little fox friend.”

“Mrs. Woods!” Lincoln released Lexa from his vice grip and embraced her mother with just as much enthusiasm. “Thanks for finally convincing this city girl to get back to her roots for Christmas!” Lincoln clapped Lexa’s back so hard she nearly toppled over. “Her fox has missed her.”

“What fox?”

Two tiny humans bounded into the small kitchen. Toni, a scrappy looking six year old with hair as dark as her mother’s, froze when she caught Lexa’s gaze. She waved at Lexa with an anxious sort of grin. Felix, on the other hand, seemed not to share his sister’s hesitation around people he hardly knew and threw himself into Lexa’s arms with a wildly enthusiastic, “Aunt Lexa!”

She pulled him up on her hip, grunting in faux exertion. “You’re almost too big for this, buddy!” Lexa hugged him tightly. “Next time I see you, you’re going to be taller than me.” 

Felix giggled as she set him back down, but he didn’t break his gaze. “What fox?” he repeated his question from moments before. 

Lexa wanted to roll her eyes, to deflect, to talk about anything other than the silver-furred fox. But now Toni was also staring up at her, her piercing blue eyes as wide and hopeful as her twin’s, and dammit, she couldn’t disappoint them.

“I first saw it when I was just a sophomore in college. I was home for the holidays, walking through my woods,” Lexa started with enthusiastic flair. “Its silver fur glistened in the winter sun, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Clarke-”

“Clarke?” Felix interrupted her with a scowl. “The fox is named Clarke?” 

“I was really into science fiction novels from the 1950s at the time,” Lexa shrugged.

“What’s a science fiction novel?” Toni gaped at her.

“Only the most exquisite form of entertainment on the planet.”

Toni and Felix both furrowed their brows in confusion.

Lincoln cleared his throat, and Lexa shot a not-so-apologetic shrug towards him before grinning at her honorary niece and nephew. “Anyway, every year, I’d try and catch her. But Clarke was clever. Always outsmarting me. Always just beyond reach. Until one day-” Lexa paused for dramatic effect. “I was twenty-two, and that year was the first and last time she let me pet her.”

“What happened?” Felix marveled.

“Nothing,” Lexa sighed. “The fox scurried away when my phone rang. I never got close to her ever again.”

The twins murmured to each other, quietly discussing the finer points of Lexa’s very simplistic retelling of her story. She left out most of the truth, choosing to save that for herself alone. She didn’t explain that sense of comfort and wonder that washed over her as her hand grazed the soft fur or how after that moment, the fox would find her and sit next to her as she read in the woods. She didn’t lament about the hole in her chest that grew inexplicably larger the longer she was gone.

Lexa didn’t tell them those things because it was crazy. She didn’t tell them because no one would believe her. She didn’t tell them because there were just some things that she’d rather keep warm and safe in her heart.

The backdoor slammed open once more, and just like that, Lexa’s fox-filled thoughts scampered away. Octavia, in a flurry of dark hair and fierce blue eyes, pulled Lexa into a warm side hug. “Good to see you again, Lexa. Lincoln hasn’t stopped gushing about your old tradition since he heard you were coming home this Christmas. And between you and me,” she dropped her voice in a playful yet loud whisper. “I can’t wait to hear that man try to sing.”

“Hey,” Lincoln wrapped an arm around Lexa, pulling her from Octavia’s embrace into one of his own. “I’ll have you know, Lexa and I used to be the talk of the town. Everyone looked forward to hearing our Christmas carols in December. We both have lovely voices.”

Lexa hid her face behind the travel mug of wassail her mother just handed her. While it was true that they were the talk of the town every year, Lexa wasn’t as confident about their questionably melodic renditions of some classics as Lincoln clearly was.

*******

“ _Here we come a-caroling among the leaves so green!_ ” Toni and Felix belted with the conviction of children who hadn’t been burned by the world. They skipped ahead in unison, leading the charge from Lexa’s parent’s somewhat secluded house into town.

“It’s _‘here we come a-wassailing,’_ ” Lexa complained under her breath, utterly incapable of keeping the holiday cheer despite the warm wassail coursing through her veins. “Why do Americans have to change everything when the original version worked just fine?”

“What are you pouting about over there?” Lincoln bumped into her shoulder, grinning like a madman. 

“Why is Aunt Lexa pouting?” Toni appeared out of nowhere, grasping her father’s hand, swinging it to and fro. “This is going to be fun!”

“It is fun. Lexa,” he gave her a pointed look. “Just needs to get in the spirit.”

“She should sing _The Christmas Song_ at the first house!” 

Lexa glanced down to find Felix intertwining his gloved fingers in hers, a hopeful smile on his little face.

“Ooooh!” Toni and Lincoln gasped, their eyes alight with glee, and in Lincoln’s case, a little smugness thrown in. “That’s a great idea.”

“Fine,” Lexa sighed. “But only if you promise to provide the most decadent harmonies the town has ever heard.”

Felix’s nose scrunched up adorably as he blinked his confusion towards her. 

“She needs us to sing backup,” Octavia clarified, and Felix’s face instantly melted into a smile.

“First house!” Toni screeched, tugging Lincoln up the stone steps towards the old abandoned building.

“No one lives there, munchkin,” Lincoln shook his head. “It’s been vacant since we were kids.”

“Not true,” Toni sing-songed. “There’s a light on.”

Lexa glanced up, and sure enough, the kid was right. All the windows facing them glowed warm and bright on the darkening street. Lincoln shrugged at her and led the way to the front door. “Okay, family, just like we practiced.”

Lexa swallowed down a large gulp of her wassail, willing the warm drink to imbue her body and voice with some Christmas magic because it’d been a while since she sang Christmas carols, and honestly, she really didn’t want to disappoint her old friend and his adorable family.

She set her shoulders back, stood up straight, took a deep breath in, and knocked.

The soft pitter-patter of clothed feet echoed in her ears, and the door swung open. 

Lincoln, Octavia, and the children instantly began a well-rehearsed acapella rendition of the instrumental score, but Lexa couldn’t breathe, let alone sing. 

The most stunning, beguiling, gorgeous, exquisite, and a hundred more synonyms for beautiful that Lexa’s rattled brain couldn’t remember, woman in the world was smirking at her fantastic impression of a gaping fish, and Lexa’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

“Lexa.”

Lincoln’s voice barely penetrated her lust fogged mind.

“Aunt Lexa-” a tiny hand tugged on her wool coat. “Did you forget the words?” Felix stared up at her, horrified.

“Oh!” the woman gasped, throwing her hand over her heart, and as Lexa followed the movement and landed on the swell of the stranger’s ample chest, her ears burned hotter. “Are you carolers? I haven’t had carolers in-” she let out the most lovely raspy half-laugh. “I actually don’t know if I’ve ever had carolers before.”

“It’s your lucky day!” Lincoln boomed. He stepped forward, leveling Lexa with a ‘What the hell? Are you okay?’ look.

Lexa did the only thing she could think of to rid herself of her useless lesbian predicament and slammed her eyes shut. She turned her mind away from angel-like blonde hair and twinkling blue eyes and sucked in a long deep breath of air. 

“ _Chestnuts roasting on an open fire_ ,” she sang slow enough for her little four-person backup team to catch up. And catch up, they did. Their rehearsals proved effective, and Lexa relaxed as all their voices blended together in a melodic cantor. She opened her eyes.

“ _Jack Frost nipping at your nose._ ”

The woman’s face hardened a fraction, and Lexa’s heart skipped a beat, terrified she’d missed a note. But the hard edge was gone before Lexa could sing the next line, and she settled into the song effortlessly, even swaying in beat with the twins.

As they all sang the final “ _Merry Christmas to you,_ ” the woman beamed, beautiful and bright, and Lexa, filled with confidence, held out her hands. Two tiny mittened palms collided with hers. “And that’s how it’s done,” she smirked at Felix and Toni. 

“That was lovely, thank you,” the woman smiled. “May I know the names of my serenaders?”

At the sight of this goddess grinning and glowing in the setting sun, Lexa was rendered once again, momentarily mute.

Lincoln, ever the gentleman, swooped in to save her poor floundering soul. “Lincoln,” he waved. “My wife-”

“Octavia,” Octavia finished for him. “And the two munchkins are ours, Antonia and Felix.”

“And you?”

Those blue eyes burned hotter than Lexa’s cheeks, but she was finally able to scramble together some form of normal human interaction and cleared her throat, “Lexa.”

The woman held out her hand, and as Lexa wrapped her gloved fingers around bare ones, a familiar warmth shot up through her arm. It took everything to not gasp at the sensation. 

“Clarke,” the woman smiled with a single pump of her wrist.

“Clarke?” Felix gasped. He jumped up and down, tugging on Lexa’s coat manically. “Aunt Lexa! Just like your story! It’s Clarke!”

Lexa bent down, desperate to quiet the overly excited boy. “Felix!” she whispered urgently. “I heard her.”

“Are you a fox?”

Lexa whipped her head towards the little girl, eyes wide with mortification. Of course, this was her life. The first time in ages since she’d seen someone so attractive and seemingly interested, if the way she kept making eye contact was any indication, and her best friend’s children were about to squash any chance she may have had by divulging her escapades with a fox that no one believed was real.

“Not in the literal sense, no,” Clarke smirked. She turned to Lexa, catching her gaze, and winked. “But I suppose that’s more in the eye of the beholder, don’t you think?” 

Lexa’s already flush cheeks ignited, spreading a blush from the tips of her ears down through her chest.

“So, Clarke,” Lincoln subtly nudged Lexa. “Are you new in town? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“I’ve been around,” Clarke tore her gaze from Lexa, softening her smile for him. “I’m kind of a seasonal visitor.”

“It is beautiful here in the winter,” Lexa finally found her voice, and Clarke turned to her with a winning grin. “Especially when it snows.”

Clarke’s entire face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You like the snow?”

Lexa nodded.

“Me too,” Clarke bit her bottom lip, waiting expectantly for something. Lincoln nudged Lexa again, and this time, she snapped into action.

“Clarke,” she cleared her throat. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but-”

“Hot chocolate.”

“What?” Lexa stood up straighter at the interruption.

“I like hot chocolate.”

Lexa’s smile was bigger than it’d been all night. “I know where we can get the best cup of hot chocolate.”

“Tonight?” Clarke’s eyebrows lifted in hope. “After you all finish serenading the town?”

A little taken aback at the quick turn of events, but definitely not one to question a beautiful woman’s desire to plan a date, Lexa nodded, “I’ll pick you up at 8:30?”

“I can’t wait.”

After a quick exchange of soft smiles, Clarke clicked her door shut, and Lincoln threw his arm around Lexa. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Shut up,” she smacked him away. His laugh boomed down the darkening road, infectious and pure, and soon enough, all of them were giggling like school kids as they strutted to the next house.

Lexa snuck a glance back towards Clarke’s home, smirking as she caught the curtains swish and a shadow duck out of sight.


	2. It's Cold Outside

“Town is that way.” 

Clarke pointed down the lamplit sidewalk to the right, and Lexa, bolstered by Clarke’s cute little smirk, grabbed her hand and led her towards the barely-there path into the woods. “We’re not going into town.”

“I can see that.”

“I promised the best hot chocolate-” Lexa swung her bag around and pulled out a large thermos. She presented it with a confident grin that she hoped hid her mildly irritating self-doubt.

“You made it yourself?”

Lexa hummed in response, tucking the hot chocolate back safely in her bag. 

“Setting yourself up pretty high there.”

Lexa ducked under a low branch, and being the chivalrous person she was, held it to the side as Clarke walked beneath it. “The recipe is only half of what makes it the best,” Lexa said.

“What’s the other half?”

“Ambiance.”

Lexa pushed back a few more branches and angled her body off to the side. The reveal hit Clarke exactly how she hoped it would. Clarke’s jaw dropped, and the corners of her lips slowly curled upwards. 

Lexa didn’t need to look to know what Clarke was seeing. She’d been there so many times in the past, but as Lexa followed behind Clarke into her little clearing, she couldn’t help the awed wondrous smile on her lips either.

It was exactly how she remembered it. The metal bench sat just off to the side, it’s iron latticework back covered in thick green vines with flowers as yellow as the sun. Winter jasmine. Planted by Lexa when she was sixteen so she’d always be able to see beautiful blooms, even in the snow.

Just beyond the bench, her pond reflected the stars, and if Lexa closed her eyes, she could see the silver fur of her little fox friend glittering under the moonlight.

Clarke stood frozen just a few feet into the clearing, and Lexa shifted her weight from foot to foot as she rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s much prettier when it snows,” Lexa explained. “This was one of my favorite places growing up. I’d spend hours out here, reading, writing, skating around the pond when it froze. But we can head back into town if you want.”

Clarke turned towards her then, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “And miss out on half of what makes that hot chocolate the best? Why would we do that?”

“I just realized that this might be a bit much for the first date. It’s a little…” Lexa looked around once more. There wasn’t another soul in sight, and Lexa bit her lip as she realized how that might seem. “Secluded,” she finished with a nervous grimace.

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke shook her head. She grasped Lexa’s hand, and all of Lexa’s anxieties evaporated into the starry night. “I love this place.”

The crushing weight of worry lifted from her chest, and Lexa led them towards the flower-covered bench. “I wish you could see it with snow-” She plucked a single golden blossom and twirled the tiny flower between her fingers. “The jasmine still blooms, and when the moonlight catches a fresh blanket of snow, it shines. This place looks like it’s from another world.”

Lexa tucked the yellow flower right behind Clarke’s ear. 

“I’ll just have to use my imagination then.” Clarke caught Lexa’s hand before she could retrieve it and pressed a kiss to her palm. Lexa never hated gloves more than she did at that moment. “Or maybe you’ll just have to bring me back here after it snows.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“The lack of snow,” Lexa gestured grandly at her little clearing. The trees had long since shed their leaves, and their branches remained dark and bare. It all looked a little macabre without soft white dusting every inch. “I can’t remember a Christmas growing up when it didn’t snow, and it’s been years, according to my mother. She loves the snow almost as much as me. Even threatened to pack up and move to Sweden if she has to spend another snowless winter here.”

Clarke remained silent, her face contorted into a gentle sort of longing, and Lexa, eager to get back to the smirking and smiling Clarke, sat down on the cold bench and patted the seat next to her. Clarke shook her head slightly, ridding her mind of whatever sad thoughts Lexa caused, and plopped down next to her. Lexa pulled out her thermos and two tin cups, filling each with steaming velvety hot chocolate. “So, where are you from, Clarke?”

“Is it that time already?” Clarke shifted closer. Her thigh barely brushed against Lexa’s, but her body heat pierced through Lexa’s jeans, warming her in more ways than one.

“What?” Lexa cleared her throat after taking too large a sip of hot chocolate.

“The boring small talk,” Clarke smiled over her mug. “The get-to-know-you by asking questions you could probably find the answers to with a simple internet search.”

“Fair enough,” Lexa laughed, and serenity washed over her. Clarke was smiling back at her, and everything felt right. She didn’t know where Clarke was from or what her last name was, but those little details didn’t matter. Lexa could see Clarke’s entire history written in her eyes. Those soulful, mischievous eyes that sparkled warm yet icy blue under the moonlight told her everything she needed to know. And it felt… normal.

“Ask me something real.”

Lexa rested her half-full mug on her lap and turned her shoulders to face Clarke. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

“Maybe you do.” Clarke set her mug down, mirroring Lexa’s posture perfectly.

“I would have remembered you.”

“Seems to me that you do.” 

Lexa furrowed her eyebrows, caught off guard by that statement. She slumped back against the bench, the frozen metal cutting into her shoulders. A myriad of faces danced through her memory as she tried to find the one staring back at her, but none were as enchanting as Clarke. None possessed that wheat blonde hair, none had that perfect quirk of their lips as they smiled. 

“So why did your niece ask if I was a fox?”

Lexa startled at the 180, but she was grateful for the change of topic, even if it was potentially (re definitely) an embarrassing one.

“It’s nothing,” Lexa groaned as her face heated despite the chill on the air.

“Your red cheeks say otherwise.” Clarke nudged her shoulder, and Lexa promptly hid her face as best she could behind her hands. Clarke pried them away. “Now I really have to know.”

“Promise you won’t laugh or think I’m crazy?”

“That’s a big ask, but for you?” Clarke smirked before placing her right hand over her heart. “I promise.”

Lexa worried her bottom lip for a brief moment before sucking in a deep breath. She turned back to Clarke with conviction. “There was this fox that lived out here,” Lexa smiled as she recalled her encounter with it all those years ago. “I first saw it when I was twenty. I named it Clarke.”

“Where did you come up with that?” Clarke’s nose crinkled with her adorable little smile.

“I was going through a 1950s sci-fi phase, and my favorite author was Arthur C. Clarke.”

“Named after your favorite books,” Clarke nodded. “Cute.”

“She let me pet her once.” Lexa could still feel the downy-like fur against the palm of her hand. “Just once. When I was twenty-two.”

“You get this twinkle in your eye when you talk about her.”

“She was special. I…” Lexa hesitated, but Clarke didn’t look like she was judging her. She just sat there, waiting expectantly for Lexa to continue. So with another deep breath, Lexa told her the truth. 

“I’d get this feeling. This warmth. I don’t know what it was or why, but after that day, after she let me pet her, she’d just sit there sometimes.” Lexa pointed to where Clarke was perched at this very moment. “Right next to me, and I’d tell her stories. I’d tell her my hopes and dreams, my fears and worries. And she’d just listen. It was cathartic. She wasn’t just a fox. She felt…” 

Lexa let those feelings from years ago wash over her. The solace, the ardor, all of it, twinkled around her, filling her with that enchantment she’d been chasing ever since. “Magical,” Lexa breathed and fluttered her eyes shut.

She froze as Clarke flickered back into focus. Something about her was different. Her eyes. Her eyes were grayer, a familiar silver-blue, and there was an intensity there that had Lexa backtracking. 

“So you think I’m crazy too.”

“Not in the slightest,” Clarke shook her head without an ounce of sarcasm. Her expression was so sincere and honest, Lexa suddenly felt utterly overwhelmed.

She cleared her throat and shoved the empty thermos and mugs back into her bag, cursing under her breath as her glove-covered fingers struggled with the zipper. “It’s getting cold,” she murmured as she stood in a huff. “And you aren’t bundled up nearly enough.”

Clarke adjusted her thin scarf around her neck, standing and staring at Lexa’s admittedly manic behavior. “I’ll be fine,” Clarke attempted to console.

“It must be well below freezing by now.” Lexa threw her bag over her shoulder, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and took a few bold steps towards the path back into town.

“I’m not cold-”

Ignoring Clarke completely, Lexa interrupted her, “I should get you home before you get frostbite.”

“Lexa!” Clarke threw her arm out towards Lexa’s retreating form. “Please, relax. I’m fine-”

And just when Clarke’s fingers wrapped around Lexa’s bicep, just when she started to pull her to a stop, Lexa woefully lost her footing in the frosty grass. Her boot heel slipped from under her, and her arms flailed uselessly, grasping for anything to keep her ass from hitting the cold hard ground.

Clarke yelped as she stumbled right along with Lexa, and by some sort of Christmas miracle, Lexa managed to twist her body so she took the brunt of the fall, saving Clarke from a most horrific fate. Her head collided with the earth, and Lexa pinched her eyes shut in pain.

“Ow.” 

“Are you okay?” Clarke’s fingertips frantically grazed along Lexa’s face, searching for any signs of injury.

“Despite my severely bruised ego, I’ll be fine.” 

Soft blonde waves tickled Lexa’s cheeks as Clarke hovered mere inches above her, and Lexa was suddenly caught aware of their exact predicament. Clarke’s entire body rested on hers, her face close enough to share puffs of misty exhales.

Clarke’s fingers stopped their frenzied search for blood and trailed purposefully down Lexa’s face, tracing her ears, her jawline, her lips. She inched closer, slowly, and if Lexa wanted to stop what was about to happen, she had plenty of time. But that was the last thing she wanted to do. Lexa craned her neck upwards, meeting Clarke in a tender kiss. Her lips were soft and sultry, and the chaste kiss was over before Lexa could process that sense of purpose and familiarity. 

Clarke pulled away, standing with a sly grin. She reached out, and Lexa happily took the help, only stumbling a tiny bit as she stood. Clarke’s smile morphed into a full-on devastating smirk, and Lexa tilted her head in question.

Clarke lifted her eyes to the sky.

As Lexa followed her gaze, she couldn’t help the small smile creeping across her face. Giant snowflakes fell around them, dusting their coats in soft white fluff. Lexa threaded her fingers through Clarke’s, leading her out of the woods to the gentle sound of the snow falling around them.


	3. It's Lovely Weather

The glare woke her up. Lexa pulled the pillow over her head, hiding from the blinding brilliance blaring through her un-curtained windows. 

“Stupid snow,” she grumbled into her warm bedsheets.

_Snow_.

Lexa bounded out of bed, stumbling as her legs caught in her discarded blankets. She pressed her hand against the cold window, her breath fogging the glass in rhythmic bursts. For as far as the eye could see, white covered everything. 

It was exactly like her memories from years ago, and that childlike wonder filled her chest until she was grinning from ear to ear. She pulled her old well-worn college sweatshirt overhead and slipped downstairs.

Indra was, unsurprisingly, already awake, a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“There’s hot water on the stove,” she said without looking away from the window.

Lexa prepped a mug of earl grey and padded over to the charming window seat. “Looks like Sweden will have to live on without you.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Indra smiled into her mug. “Almost as beautiful as this glow around you. It wouldn’t have anything to do with an out-of-the-blue date you went on last night, would it?”

Lexa blew on her tea, but even the distraction wasn’t enough to hide the soft blush on her cheeks. “Her name is Clarke.”

Indra froze, her mug halfway to her lips, and Lexa rolled her eyes. “The coincidence isn’t lost on me,” Lexa deadpanned. “I am fully aware she shares a name with my fox.”

“She must be special,” her mother sighed. “I haven’t seen you this happy in quite a while. Too long, really.”

Lexa just nodded. “I’m seeing her again today. This morning.” 

Indra placed a gentle hand on Lexa’s arm as she took another sip of her tea. It was one of her things, her quirks. Indra could convey a thousand different emotions with just a single look or a small touch, and Lexa, being her daughter, recognized this one. _I’m happy for you._

Anya jumped into Lexa’s lap, nearly sending her teacup clattering to the floor. But any irritation she harbored for the cantankerous cat vanished as she needed into her thighs and plopped down, burying her head into Lexa’s sweatshirt.

Indra smiled at the two of them as the fire popped and crackled in the living room. They drank their morning tea in silence, staring out at the snow-covered landscape until it was time for Lexa to get ready.

*******

Lexa pulled on her cable knit sweater, adjusting her long hair over her shoulders. At the sound of a soft rap on the front door, Lexa bounded down the stairs but was about fifteen seconds too late. Indra pulled the door open, and a bright-faced, cheery Clarke beamed at her.

“You must be Mrs. Woods,” Clarke held out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Indra took her hand and, after a firm shake, ushered her inside. “So, you’re the one to thank for my daughter’s pleasant mood.”

“Clarke!” Lexa took the remaining stairs two at a time, determined to curb this conversation before Clarke was privy to yet another embarrassing story. “You made it.”

As Clarke’s gaze locked with hers, the world seemed to right itself, and Lexa hadn’t even been aware it was off-kilter. But now that she was there, feet away from her, everything seemed better, brighter, right. 

“Are you ready to go?” Clarke smiled.

Lexa snatched her thick wool coat from the hook, pulling it over her shoulders as she swept past her mother.

“Be safe out there. It looks like it might start snowing again,” Indra stood in front of the door, blocking their exit, her intimidating mom glare firmly in place and leveled at Clarke.

“I’ll keep your daughter safe,” Clarke nodded, ever so sincerely, but Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Mom, I’m not a child.”

“Maybe not in years,” Indra side-eyed at her. “But you are in my heart.”

“Mom-” Lexa whined.

“I promise that Lexa will be safe with me, Mrs. Woods. Sleet, snow, blizzard? I’ve got it taken care of.”

Indra glared at Clarke for an intense moment, but with one final narrowing of her eyes, she stepped to the side. Lexa planted a quick kiss on Indra’s cheek before taking Clarke’s bare hand. 

They walked out into the frosty air, the snow crunching under their boots. As they trudged through the knee-high fresh powder, Lexa couldn’t help but marvel at the way Clarke seemed to glide through it. She looked completely in her element, and the ease in which she carried herself was as charming as it was beautiful. 

“Your mom is sweet,” Clarke broke the pleasant silence. “She cares a lot about you.”

“She’s my favorite person,” Lexa shrugged. “I know it just about broke her heart when I moved away.”

“Why did you? Move away, I mean,” Clarke kicked at the snow, her shoulders slouching as she waited for Lexa’s answer.

“I got a job offer right out of college. That never happens. To anyone. I figured I’d be a fool to turn it down. Even if it was in Texas.”

Clarke nodded, her face somber, and Lexa quickly changed the subject. “So, where are we going?”

Clarke perked up instantly. “Skating,” she practically sang.

Lexa stopped short as Clarke turned down a very familiar path.

“On my pond?”

“You said you wished I could see it after it snowed.”

“There’s no way it’s frozen over yet,” Lexa shook her head as she caught up to Clarke. 

“It has.”

“You’ve already checked?”

“I don’t need to.”

“Clarke, falling through thin ice is not a joke.”

“I know it isn’t.” She pushed aside the now snow-dusted branches, revealing Lexa’s winter wonderland. The clearing shone in the mid-morning sun, and it was every bit as magical as Lexa remembered.

Clarke leaned forward, placing a short, sweet kiss to Lexa’s cold lips. “Beautiful as I imagined,” she whispered, and Lexa’s cheeks flushed because she was fairly certain Clarke wasn’t talking about the snowy landscape.

Clarke intertwined their hands once again, leading them to the little pond. The closer they got, the more obvious it became that the pond was frozen over. The ice glistened, clear and thick, but looks were deceiving. 

Lexa approached the pond with cautious steps, squatting down just at the water’s edge, and reached into her back pocket.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Lexa stated firmly.

Clarke let out a loud sigh and skipped to the center of the pond.

“Clarke!” Lexa’s eyes flew wide open in terror. “What are you doing? Get back here! You could fall through!”

Clarke playfully rolled her eyes, sliding back towards Lexa with graceful ease. Lexa’s heart hammered in her chest, her ears reaching out, waiting for that horrifying crack, but it didn’t come. Clarke slid to a stop just a few feet from her and held out her hand. “Trust me, please.”

“No,” Lexa grasped Clarke’s hand, but instead of joining her on the ice, she held fast, keeping Clarke safe near the shore.

Clarke sighed, defeated. “You’re ruining my plans.”

“I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you non-hypothermic,” Lexa leveled her with a death glare.

“You’re very cute,” Clarke smirked.

“Compliments won’t make me change my mind.”

Clarke stared at her for another few seconds, and with a grand sigh and shrug of her shoulders, she hopped off the ice. “Alright, you win. Pull out your trusty knife and test the ice.”

Lexa stood up straight, turning with dramatically slow pace, and faced Clarke. “How do you know I have a knife?”

“I’m assuming you haven’t changed that much in ten years.”

Lexa’s chest tightened, and her stomach fluttered with realization. “We _have_ met before.”

“Yes,” Clarke smiled.

And there was something so familiar there. So magical. Lexa struggled to get a hold of her thoughts, but she knew. She’d always known.

“You’re-”

“You can say it,” Clarke urged gently.

“You’re Clarke.”

“The name I choose to use when I’m around mortals-” Clarke stepped forward, lifting her hand towards Lexa’s cheek. Her fingertips ghosted over Lexa’s skin, just a whisper of a touch. “Named after a beautiful woman’s favorite author.”

“You told Toni you weren’t a fox,” was all Lexa could murmur.

“I’m not.”

“But you just said-”

Clarke reached for Lexa’s hand and pulled her towards the pond once more. This time, Lexa followed like a lost puppy because, honestly, falling through thin ice would be the least surprising thing to happen to her today. 

They reached the center of the pond, and Clarke let go of her hand. She reached down, pressing her palm flat against the ice. The frozen water erupted in a dance of geometric patterns.

Frost.

It cascaded like a ripple from Clarke’s hand across the entire body of frozen water, decorating the pond in beautiful fractals. She stood up suddenly, proud and calm, waiting for some sort of reaction that Lexa just couldn’t muster. 

“Who are you?” Lexa’s voice sounded two octaves too high, and her skin tingled as she stared at the woman who most definitely was not just a woman.

“I’ve had many names over the years,” Clarke shrugged. “But the one you are probably most familiar with is Jack. Jack Frost.”

“But Jack Frost’s not a wom-”

“History sucks when it’s written by men. Always changing things to fit their ideals of what a patriarchal society should look like.”

Lexa couldn’t deny the truth of that statement, but there were more pressing matters at hand. For instance, the woman she’d just kissed could control ice and was apparently a mythical entity named Jack Frost.

“So you’re, what? An ice sprite? A frost fairy? A goddess of winter whose alter-ego is a fox?”

“That’s a good a description as any.”

Lexa dragged her hands down her face, desperate to grasp on to something. To anything. “Why me?”

“In all fairness,” Clarke half-laughed. “I tried to run away when you first saw me. But you were persistent.”

“When I was twenty-two-” Lexa shook her head, recalling the moment Clarke stopped running. When _she_ approached her. When _she_ initiated contact.

“You’re special, Lexa. I could sense it.”

Lexa looked off into the distance, pulling in long deep breaths of frigid air. Her head was reeling with the information just dropped on her, and she didn’t know which way was up. The world seemed to stop spinning. The air grew thick, and Lexa struggled to pull oxygen into her lungs. But none of that was from fear or uncertainty. 

Quite the opposite. 

She couldn’t breathe because a literal goddess told her she was special when, as far as she was concerned, she was the least spectacular thing in these woods.

“Lexa?” Clarke grasped her hand, squeezing it until Lexa met her gaze. “I’ve been in love with you for twelve years.”

She was awestruck, rendered a statue at Clarke’s confession.

“I fell in love with the heart and soul you bared to me all those years ago. Not a day went by when I didn’t think about you.” Clarke’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, turning a more vibrant blue. “I’ve lived many lifetimes, all in the cold, and it never troubled me, that bitter nip of it. Not until the year I came back here, and you didn’t come. There’s been this aching, this chasm, and I just learned to live with it. But then you knocked on my door. You were there, standing on my porch, singing about Jack Frost.”

Clarke let out a huff of laughter, but whatever joy she got from the memory faded quickly. Lexa stood mesmerized by the dance of emotions over Clarke’s whole body. The ebb and flow of her chest as she sighed in longing, the furrow of her eyebrows as she worried, the part of her lips as she hoped.

“Lexa,” Clarke’s voice cracked. “I’m not ready to spend another minute trying to fill that hole. Not when I think you might feel the same way.”

Lexa’s eyes burned with tears because Clarke was right. She’d felt that yearning, that ache. She knew what it felt like to feel incomplete, and she knew the bliss of feeling whole once again. So she did the only thing she could.

Lexa wrapped her hand in Clarke’s hair, tangling her fingers in soft blonde curls, and pulled her close. She always knew there was something more to her fox, and as she kissed her, she smirked, because it felt oh-so-good to be right.

“It’s snowing again,” Lexa marveled as they broke apart.

Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s shoulder, murmuring a timid, “I can’t help it.”

“You make it snow?” Lexa gasped.

“It’s kinda my thing.”

Lexa tucked a strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear, letting her fingertips linger. “But it hasn’t snowed here in-”

“Ten years.”

_Oh._


	4. As We Dream by the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to @dontcha-wanheda for the cutest winter fox I've ever seen!!!

“So, what now?”

Lexa rolled to the side, the nest of blankets tangling around her bare body. Clarke grinned back at her as the soft firelight danced over copious amounts of skin.

“I can think of a few things.” Clarke pounced on her, kissing her nose, her chin, nipping down her neck, and Lexa giggled like a schoolgirl. Her frenzied attack lasted a minute more before her movements slowed, and she placed a languid kiss on her lips. Lexa held her close, reveling in the soft weight upon her.

She tucked some wild hair behind Clarke’s ear. Despite Clarke’s easy smile and her sex-mussed hair, an uncomfortable burden squeezed Lexa’s lungs. “I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” Clarke rolled off her, angling her body to face Lexa, her smile still tender but solemn.

“You can’t stay here forever.”

“No,” Clarke shook her head. “I go where the winter takes me.”

Lexa was quiet. She understood, in the simplest sense, what that meant. A complicated life, bouts of separation, but it wasn’t impossible. It’d take a bit of creativity to navigate. All relationships had their quirks, theirs just involved a seasonal obstacle.

Best live in the moment.

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke and pulled her right back on top of her. Clarke snuggled her head into Lexa’s shoulder, playing with her fingers. A fit of goosebumps cascaded down Lexa’s spine, and she shivered.

“Your hands are cold.”

“Occupational hazard.” Clarke booped Lexa’s nose. A frigid wave crashed over her as if Lexa had just stepped outside and a sharp breeze caught her smack in the face.

Lexa laughed pure and loud, catching Clarke’s fingers and pulling them a safe distance from her frosty face. “Now I get that line in the song,” Lexa smirked.

Clarke’s brows furrowed, and her nose crinkled. “I hate that phrase. ‘Jack Frost nipping at your nose.’ Ugh, I do not nip.”

“I beg to differ.”

Lexa ducked away in the nick of time, avoiding Clarke’s playful smack by inches.

“You know,” the mischief in Clarke’s eyes abated into something much more pensive. “Even after all I’ve seen, after all the years, I’m still surprised by life.”

Lexa wasn’t sure where this was going, so she kept eye contact, encouraging Clarke to continue with a little dip of her chin.

“I love the way children smile when they see the first snow of the year. The way people gleam when they snuggle against their loved one as the air turns cold. It’s magical, fulfilling. But for centuries, I felt like I was missing something. You. And here you are.”

The gravity of Clarke’s words crumbled over Lexa. She’d never been on the receiving end of such romantic declarations. “This is all happening so fast,” Lexa whispered.

Clarke bristled in her arms, but Lexa held her close. She quickly corrected her words. “I’ve thought about you too, over the years. I knew there was something more to my fox, but I never imagined it’d be this. For the first time, I feel whole.”

Clarke kissed the underside of her jaw. They laid there together, in front of Clarke’s crackling fireplace, for what seemed like hours. Lexa drawing random patterns on Clarke’s bare back, Clarke nuzzling her face into Lexa’s neck, soft kisses, playful ones too. It was a quiet moment with a magical woman, and Lexa’s heart pounded with gaiety.

“Can you show me?” Lexa whispered into the quiet night.

Clarke sat up on her elbows. “Show you what?”

“The winter fox.”

Clarke leveled her with a ‘really’ look, and Lexa pulled her best pouty face. “Please?”

With a sigh that sounded nowhere near exasperated, Clarke stood. Lexa’s jaw dropped, and she wasn’t sure what was stronger: the desire to see Clarke transform or the hunger to keep her in her human form, naked and brilliant and beautiful.

While she contemplated her tortuous predicament, Clarke just smirked. But just as sure as she was standing there, suddenly, she wasn’t. In the blink of an eye, Clarke was gone, and in her place stood a fox. Lexa’s fox.

Lexa instinctively reached her hand out, and Clarke nuzzled against it. And then, just like that, Clarke reappeared, kissing her palm.

“Wow,” Lexa breathed, as she blinked slowly.

“You’re easily impressed,” Clarke giggled.

“You need to spend more time with mortals because I’m pretty sure any sane person in my position would have a similar reaction.”

“But you knew I could do it.”

“Knowing and seeing are two different things.”

Clarke kissed her then, long and languid and deep. Lexa melted into it. It felt like she’d known Clarke for years, and she laughed into the embrace, because really, she had.

*******

“Merry Christmas, Woods family!”

The back door slammed open, and Lincoln’s booming voice startled Lexa from her intense concentration on the chessboard in front of her. Clarke, it turned out, mastered the game centuries ago, and Lexa spent the better part of Christmas morning trying desperately to win at least once. It’d been an endless source of entertainment for her mother and Clarke, who both found her irritation at losing quite hilarious.

Lincoln wrapped Lexa up in a bear hug yet again, lifting her from her seat before doing the same to Clarke. Lexa’s smile was small, but it meant everything. The way Clarke had integrated into her little family was seamless. It was like she’d always been a part of it. No one questioned their instant connection. No one teased Lexa for falling for what they assumed was a stranger in the span of a few days. It was perfect.

“Aunt Lexa!” Felix bounded into the room, his arms heavy with a tray of messily decorated cookies. “We brought cookies!”

“I can see that.” Lexa swooped forward, collecting the plate before it tumbled to the ground. “Did you decorate these yourself?”

“We both did,” Toni squeaked. She wrapped her little arms around Lexa’s waist, squeezing softly.

“They look delicious,” Clarke offered a genuine smile to the girl.

“We made one just for you.”

“You did?” Clarke glanced at Octavia, who bit back a chuckle.

Felix lifted back the plastic wrap, delicately picking through the treats until he found what he was looking for. With a grand flourish only a six-year-old could pull off without seeming ostentatious, he presented Clarke with her cookie.

A little fox, painted white with frosting and sparking with a tad too much edible glitter, sat perfectly on his palm.

“A fox!” Toni shouted. “Because you’re Clarke. And Lexa has a fox named Clarke!”

“I know all about her fox,” Clarke winked. “And I bet I can tell you better stories than she did.”

“You’ve seen the fox?” Felix gasped.

“The fox and I go way back.”

While the children listened raptly to Clarke’s increasingly over-the-top tales of winters from long ago, Lexa’s cheeks slowly returned to their natural color.

“She’s something,” Lincoln plopped down next to Lexa. “I expect a thank you gift in the mail. I prefer freshly baked apple bread, but an assortment of flowers or a beer bouquet would be acceptable.”

Lexa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. He did have a point. If it weren’t for him, she’d probably still be gaping like a useless fish on Clarke’s front porch. So she threw her arms around Lincoln’s neck and squeezed him tight. “Thank you.”

Lincoln patted her back, and they settled into the couch, sipping on warm wassail, watching his children light up as Clarke snuggled a crotchety cat in her lap and regaled them with tale after tale.

*******

The white Christmas passed far too quickly, and before Lexa was ready, she said farewell. To her mother, her best friend, his little family, and to Clarke.

There were tears, and an inexplicable blizzard threatened to delay Lexa’s flight. But with copious kisses and promises for next year, Lexa boarded her plane back to Texas with a fresh hole in her heart.

The flight was dull and long, and Lexa buried herself in her sweatshirt, only her eyes peeking out to read her book.

After re-reading the same paragraph too many times to count, Lexa set the book back into her bag and opted instead to stare out the window. This high up, the winter clouds looked as soft and fluffy as freshly fallen snow, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

She wiped it away, cursing her aching heart. She’d only been away from Clarke for an hour, and already she felt that pang of longing. How did she expect to get through an entire year like this? Lexa shook her head, hating herself for not setting up some sort of plan, for not figuring out where in the world Clarke would be at any given time, and for not promising to visit those cold places as often as she could.

Her depressing spiral proved useful for distraction, at least. The flight passed quickly, and Lexa found herself slumped in the backseat of a F150 as her Uber driver attempted chit-chat.

“Coming home from a holiday trip?” his deep voice seemed incredibly mismatched from his slight frame.

“Yeah,” Lexa sighed. She didn’t offer more in hopes that he’d get the message and just let her wallow.

“Nice to be home, I bet. Traveling always wears me out. Where are you coming home from?”

Lexa rolled her head up, getting lost in the play of headlights on the cloth ceiling. Her silence seemed to click for her driver, and he turned on the radio.

Lexa rested her head against the cold window, dreading the next twelve months, as the news babbled on about politics and unexpected cold fronts.

Soon enough, she bid her driver farewell and heaved her suitcase up the three steps to her modest two-bedroom home. A brisk breeze curled around her, jingling her keys as they hung from the lock.

She pulled her light coat tightly around her and quickly pushed her door open.

But before she stepped inside, another current of freezing air swirled through her porch, and Lexa went crosseyed as the single most fluffy and perfect snowflake landed on the tip of her nose. She froze, but nothing could stop the enormous smile from pulling at her cheeks.

“Hey, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Clexmas, y'all!!!!


End file.
